Little Talks- Merome
by tinybeavermonster
Summary: "That's not possible," He'd whisper to himself, gazing curiously at the dark ceiling above him. "He's gone, gone, gone away. I watched him disappear, he's gone." [Merome]


A/N: Well, all I can say is that I've been in the mood for angst lately, oops. Also this is inspired by the song Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men, which you should go listen to because it's a gorgeous song!

Pairings: merome

**Little Talks**

Some nights Mitch couldn't sleep. He'd stare up at the ceiling, acutely aware of every noise in his old house. The stairs would creak, as if someone were walking up them. Sometimes, if he listened hard enough, Mitch thought he could hear footsteps too, pacing back and forth in the attic above him. The way the footsteps sounded, heavy and clomping, reminded Mitch of him.

"That's not possible," He'd whisper to himself, gazing curiously at the dark ceiling above him. "He's gone, gone, gone away. I watched him disappear, he's gone."

He'd repeat those words to himself, over and over again, until he finally drifted to sleep, as the light of dawn trickled faintly into his lonely, too-empty room.

He'd wake up a couple of hours lately, unable to stay asleep for long. When Mitch slept for more than a few hours, he'd dream of better times. Of happier days, when he was still there. Those memories always hurt the most, because Mitch knew that he was never coming back.

It had been almost a year since he had died (no, not died, Mitch refused to accept that he was dead. He was just… far away, in another land), and Mitch still had trouble dragging himself out of bed every day. After he'd throw some clothes on, never bothering to check whether it matched or not, he'd shuffle out of his bedroom, down the creaky stairs, and into the kitchen.

On one particular morning, when Mitch had entered the kitchen, he saw him standing by the stove.

"J-jerome?!" He choked out, staring at the other man, bewildered.

Mitch stumbled across the room, but as he reached out his hand to his lover, Jerome disappeared, as if he had never been there at all.

Mitch shook the experience off, blaming it on the fact that he hadn't slept at all the previous night, and went on with his day.

But as the year continued, Mitch continued to have experiences like the one in the kitchen. In the beginning, it had started out small. He'd only catch brief glimpses of his departed lover when he'd look in the mirror, or when he turned corners. Soon though, he'd started seeing Jerome more often, and many times he'd wake up to see the other man watching him.

Mitch's dreams continued to get worse and worse as well, most of them concerning the event of Jerome's… passing. Despite Mitch's attempts to stay awake longer, he found himself falling asleep quicker and quicker every night.

Sometimes he even heard the other man's voice, even though Jerome was no where to be seen. Mostly Mitch ignored it, until it started happening more often as well.

"What's happening to me?" He whispered to himself one night, as he lay curled up on his too-big bed.

"Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear."

Flinching, Mitch looked up, expecting to see Jerome, but was met with the dark, peeling walls of his bedroom. Heart filling with frustration and grief, Mitch let out a mixture of a sob and a hysterical laugh.

"I-is this some sort of game to you? Huh?!" He screamed at the empty room as he rolled of the bed and onto the floor. Wrapping his arms around his chest, he felt something deep inside of his chest snap.

"Won't answer, eh? Fine then, I'll see you when I fall asleep anyways!"

Heart filled with bitter desperation, the broken-hearted man crawled back onto his bed and collapsed in a heap of tears and pain.

"We'll meet again soon," Mitch muttered to himself as he faded into sleep.

"Oh, Mitch. I'm so, so sorry."

Jerome walked over to the bed, revealing his former position by the door, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Mitch's forehead.

"Meet again soon, indeed." The ghost sighed softly as he ran his fingers through his distressed love's hair. Jerome turned away regretfully, and vanished into the air once more, but not before tossing a forlorn glance over his shoulder at the other man.

Mitch never woke up the next morning.


End file.
